


I Ain't Got Time To Be

by GalahadsGurl



Series: The Cahill Project [6]
Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies), Nikita (TV 2010), The Cahill Project - Fandom
Genre: Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Gen, Owen Elliot and Marina Petrovka are Besties, Pre-Canon, Syria Leave, The Cahill Project, Unusual Avengers Legacy Protocol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 05:43:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18910738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalahadsGurl/pseuds/GalahadsGurl
Summary: Unfortunately for Owen Elliot, Marina Petrovka is stubborn, likehellastubborn.Regrettably forher, Owen is even more stubborn. He had to be, in order to out-stubborn the Boss Man.OrOwen and Marina argue after Marina is injured while Will is still hurt after Syria.





	I Ain't Got Time To Be

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Caiti (Caitriona_3)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caitriona_3/gifts).



> Hey Guys!! So Caiti set up an Owen Bingo for me, to help when I get stuck in my head and need to get out. And this is our first entry! I can't wait to hear what you all think! Let me know and you're all amazing!

[](https://imgur.com/IRKaE5D)

Owen Elliot never had a real family. Sure, there were foster families until he aged out, but none of those families stuck around after he turned eighteen. Except for a literal box in an alleyway behind his favorite Chinese restaurant, the teenager graduated from high school completely out of options. So - after being arrested for petty theft - he took advantage of the options the judge gave him: enlist in the Army or go to jail. 

The Army sucked, at least until Will Grimm showed up to rescue him. Owen went from being around officers who expected him to shut his mouth and do his job silently, to an officer who would lose his temper if Owen didn’t tell him off for any dumb ideas he had. As Owen’s nature dictated a certain “fuck you” attitude directed at anyone and anything, the two men suited surprisingly well. But, even though Owen might have called them friends, he never said so aloud. Commissioned officers were **not** friends with their NCOs - not even commissioned officers like Captain William M. Grimm. 

Of course, all this happened six months ago. They were at the end of that road and Owen suddenly faced the reality of having to change his opinion of his relationship with his CO. 

In all the movies the sergeant had ever seen, the NCO got shot protecting the Big Shot officer - sacrificing himself by taking the bullets so his commanding could go and lead another day. So why the hell did _**HIS**_ dumbass CO step between Owen and a half dozen bullets? Yeah, he and the Boss were probably friends, but bullets didn’t typically care about that. Will’s actions threw everything Owen thought he knew into complete disarray. 

Furthermore, even the best of people usually balked at inviting a fellow soldier home with them, especially after the person doing the inviting got shot to protect the other’s idiot ass. Furthermore this injured party nearly died afterward, kept alive only by the power of sheer stubbornness. Just the idea of someone so selfless proved outside the realm of what Sergeant Elliot could understand . . . and yet, the circus remained in view every time he opened his eyes from the life he continued to believe a dream. 

Legs dangling over the edge of the rail-car, Owen took a long drink from the beer he swiped from the mess the previous evening. A part of him mused on the fact that day drinking led to a shit-ton of other problems, but the rest of him acknowledged he needed the beer. No one even blinked when he moved to snitch a bottle of brew. Not you mention, Daniel Carter smirking as he handed the sergeant a bottle before Owen could steal it shocked the soldier more than a little - most of the inhabitants of the circus knew Will could claim a year’s seniority over Owen. Furthermore, they all knew Will was several months shy from being old enough to drink legally, meaning Owen couldn’t drink either. Apparently minor delinquencies - such as underage drinking undertaken among the overly protective denizens of Carter’s Circus - didn’t matter much here. 

Relief at being able to take a second bottle for later melted into frustration at needing it. Lately he spent night after night listening to soft exclamations of pain slipping free from his commanding, the sounds near constant in the dark and consistently accompanied by Marina’s murmured reassurances. Being unable to do anything for the Boss except stay in his bed and ignore his pain felt like an all-new kind of torture, especially when Owen spent months arguing with himself over whether or not the two were even friends. And now, he couldn’t stop wondering when his newfound feelings for the Boss had taken hold . . . and whether or not they could still be abandoned.

Apparently, Owen was the only dumbass here. Why else would he fall in love with a man already besotted with another woman?

That morning, Will finally passed out sometime just before dawn. Owen got the younger three boys out of bed to get ready for school, fully expecting Marina to steal some needed rest of her own. However, barely ten minutes later, Marina emerged from her tiny closet, dressed and ready for the day. She took the boys to meet the bus only after Owen promised to stick close, just in case Will woke up and needed something. Of Barney Grimm, no one had seen hide nor hair of him in days. Based on the resigned annoyance twisting the Russian woman’s face, the teenager’s disappearance didn’t shock her, though frustration shined from boiling hot chocolate eyes. 

Looking up, the soldier caught sight of Marina Petrovka nearly running towards the rail-car. The woman remained an enigma, an entity Owen couldn’t quite figure out. She ruled her family without dispute, with even Will caving to some of her edicts. Granted, most of the orders she shot Will’s way, tended to be in the pursuit of protecting him from his own stubbornness. Something Owen could definitely get behind. If anything, watching her manage the lot of them, brought further clarity in that Owen finally understood where Will’s personal brand of command came. 

In addition to being firm and exacting with her boys, she also worried about them. She held each member of her family within the palm of her hand, dealing with them in a spirit of both fairness and fondness. The boys did their homework without protest, along with what seemed like never-ending practices and a veritable mountain of chores. Cap would do anything she asked him of him, falling prey to her pleas without any of the argument Owen would get for the very same requests. 

Frankly, the woman should be absolutely drained by this point, but never once had the sergeant seen her without a brilliant smile and a cheerful mien. Not that her current sprint gave any indication of exhaustion. She looked as though the fires of hell licked at her heels, as she dodged and weaved through the detritus of people in her way. 

His head cocked then as all at once, she swerved to one side and disappeared from view. Staring at where she’d been, he frowned as time continued to pass without her popping up once more. Pushing himself distractedly from the edge of the rail-car to the ground below, he took a few hesitant steps towards where he’d seen her last. Conscious of Will finally sleeping behind him, Owen felt torn - one part of him want to call for her and the other part frantic with a need to run to her aid. After another moment, he lost patience and bolted into the milling crowd. "Marina?" he called insistently, trying not to wake the Boss while also trying to make sure she could hear him. "Where are you?"

"I'm fine," came the petulant insistence from the ground to his left. 

He spun to find her voice, feeling his jaw drop at the sight of her. Seated in the shadowy mud behind one of the tents, one leg lay sprawled out in front of her while the other curled beside her, one hand wrapped around the ankle joint. "Shit!" he cursed, lunging forward and almost landing himself in the mud beside her. Arms windmilling in an effort to maintain his balance, he blurted, “Whoa!”

"Be careful," she insisted, hot chocolate eyes wide as she watched him. "The mud is slippery."

Hands out to his sides to regain his balance, he took her at her word and tiptoed his way through the muck to her side. Crouching, he reached for the ankle she cradled, tone harsh as he demanded, "What happened?"

"I slipped in the mud - I was trying to go around a cart and I lost my footing."

"Says the most surefooted human I’ve ever met," he reminded her, hands careful as he frowned over her ankle. He could feel the frown on his face pulling deeper as Marina grimaced. Hands gentle, he set the joint back in the mud and braced his arms on his knees. "I think you rolled it, but it doesn't feel broken."

"I'm all right," she reminded him, her own brand of stubbornness taking its place in her features. He chuckled a little, barely flinching as one hand reached out and smacked his shoulder firmly. There was petulance on those features as she grumbled, "No commentary from the peanut gallery."

"I didn't say anything," he protested through his laughter, earning a dirty look from the woman. "I **am** saying that it's not something you can walk on, Boss Lady."

Her eyes snapped up to his at the nickname, and he cursed quietly to realize he'd finally used the term aloud whereas he had been restricting its usage to within his own mind. Determined not to call attention to the term, for both their sakes, he continued, "If you don't rest it, you **will** damage it."

"I don't have **time** to rest it, Owen. I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm barely keeping my head above water right now. Misha's not moving around much as the pain in his knee continues to increase; Barney is completely unreliable if not blatantly absent; not to mention, I have three other boys to feed and take care of. I can't afford the time it would take to let it heal."

Taking her ankle back, her teeth bit into her lower lip as she forced herself to her feet, the flesh turning white as she put weight on the joint. "I can manage - it's not that bad."

"Not yet, but once you try to take a step, you **are** going to fall," he argued lightly, pushing to his feet with one hand out to catch her just in case. Catching the bitter look she threw at him, he confessed, "Take it from someone who's bullied my way through a similar injury and regretted every second of it."

At that moment Marina looked very young, great tears glittering in the corners of her eyes as she stared up at him. She seemed determined to bite back her frustration, but it remained visible in her features as her hands tightened on the tent beside her. For a long moment, the two stared at each other, before she begged in a wrecked whisper, "I can't."

His heart lurched in his chest, pulled by the distress he could hear in her voice and see in her face. Without his being aware of what happened, his arms came around her and held her as tightly as he dared. By holding her to him, he could suddenly feel the trembling he hadn't been able to see as she stood aloof from him. He’d never felt protectiveness or affection for another human being burn through him so fast before. All at once, he could understand the Boss Man's adoration for her. 

Marina Ivanovna Petrovka never quit and refused to say die - even when either option would have saved her from herself.

Owen bowed his face over the crown of her head, his tone gentle and warm as he promised, "I can help, Marina. **Let me _help_**."

He didn’t know how long they stood there together, every part of the woman fighting her exhaustion before at last she slumped into him. He gathered her closer, while her own hands locked desperately in the fabric of his t-shirt. A warm kiss pressed into the tangle of dark curls while she confessed her secret to him in a broken whisper, "I'm so tired."

"As you should be," he replied firmly, determined to take the reins from her for a bit. "Not even Spec Ops grunts go full bore, all the time. **Everyone** needs a rest from time to time or else they burn out. We soldiers earn leave - you have more than earned a break of your own."

“Misha . . .” she protested, cut off when Owen interrupted firmly, “Is sleeping. I will take the watch for a bit, okay, Boss Lady? **YOU** need sleep; you can take my bed and I'll keep tabs on Cap after he wakes up.”

A deep breath in her only response, moments later air rushed out of her in a sigh. “Okay. But promise me - you'll wake me if he needs me.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, trying to figure out her loophole before grunting. “Fine. But only if he desperately needs you for something I can't help him with. Deal?”

She huffed with a roll of pretty hot chocolate eyes. “Deal,” she agreed lightly. “You’re even more stubborn than my boys - no fair.”

“Takes one to manage one, Boss Lady,” he boasted with a cheeky wink. “Now, you have two options here.”

“Oh? And what is that?” she questioned cautiously, features wary with clear suspicion in narrowed eyes. 

“I can carry you like the damsel in distress you’re not. Or you can have a piggyback ride. Take your pick.”

“Both of those options suck,” she whined for a moment, even as a small smile began to grow in the very corner of her mouth. 

One finger tapped against his bottom lip as he considered that, before announcing cheerfully, “Well, I guess I could toss you over my shoulder like a sack of flour. You're small enough - not much you could do to stop me.”

“Philistine,” she groaned before pouting at being caught out. “I think I'd prefer a piggyback ride over the other options. I have enough problems with maintaining my dignity - some of the boys’ pranks leave a lot to be desired on that front. Just this once, I’d like to pretend I have control of my life.”

“As you wish, my lady,” he replied, tone magnanimous and accompanied by a playful bow, earning a girlish giggle from the woman. Turning, he presented his back before crouching. “Your chariot.”

“You're ridiculous,” she laughed, all traces of her tears gone as she wrapped her arms around his neck then hitched one leg around his waist. 

She squealed with laughter as he stood in a rush, his elbows locking her legs around his waist and knees bouncing to jolt her exuberantly into place. “Maybe so - but you gotta admit; you think I'm awesome.”

“Yeah yeah, Sir Ridiculous,” she scoffed, struggling to sound unaffected through her laughter. “Giddy up horsey.”

“Yeehaw,” he replied before bolting.


End file.
